


Haunted Places Where I Traveled Alone

by Salios



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, pub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-14 00:05:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salios/pseuds/Salios
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q just wanted a pint, alone. Apparently Bond didn't much care for what Q wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haunted Places Where I Traveled Alone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hildy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hildy/gifts).



> Hildy had given me the prompt of Bond having somehow weaseled his way into Q's life without him knowing, and then BAM! he notices. But apparently it's okay because of reasons.
> 
> This happened instead. I regret nothing.

“Do you honestly have nothing better to do with your time? Or do you get some sick thrill from chasing your coworkers around London merely to interrupt their well deserved ale-drinking time? Because if the latter is true then maybe I should collaborate with Medical to have you committed.” The words were said without sarcasm; tone so dry it mimicked the crackle of old, peeling paint. Q, with both hands wrapped around the waist of his tall pint of ale, glared at Bond from over his glasses. He’d shed his oversized anorak parka and cardigan in an attempt to dissuade anyone from taking the available seats at his table. Apparently Bond had a lower IQ than he’d thought, because the big man settled into the tall chair that had previously been covered by his dove grey cardigan. Green eyes had glared viciously at scarred hands as they’d carefully plucked the soft wool from the back of the chair and gently folded the cardigan perfectly. _Damn him_ , apparently, even assassins were capable of minor domestic miracles.

 

Bond rested his impressively thick forearms against the scarred wood of the table, cuffs riding up to expose vibrantly red rings around his wrists. A gift from his last mission. He laced thick fingers and smirked widely. Q scowled and took a draught from his ale, the heavy flavour passing over his tongue with barely any appreciation; ruined by the repeat appearance of Q’s biggest annoyance. Honestly, what had Bond’s upbringing consisted of if he considered stalking a co-worker normal and acceptable behaviour?

 

“Now now Quartermaster, no need to be childish.” Bond’s pale eyes crinkled under thick, pale brows at how Q bristled. Even the younger man’s hair seemed to fluff indignantly. “It could be coincidence that I’ve found you here. I tend to visit this pub now and then, there’s nothing odd about wanting a pint in familiar settings.” As if to prove his point, Bond signalled a waitress from across the room, gestured to Q’s dwindling pint, and motioned for two more with a saucy wink. And, judging by the woman’s pink face, he’d be getting his pint sooner rather than later. Bond turned back to Q only to find the younger man glaring at him from over the lip of his pint again, eyes narrowed into slits. The look would have been intimidating had the slim man not all but slouched off of his chair in an attempt to duck out of sight. “Really now Quartermaster, come back up here and join me, hmm? Next round’s on me.”

 

Even with the promise of free ale Q hesitated a moment before smoothly returning to his earlier upright position. “I’ll pass on the ale if it means you give me some bloody answers.” Bond merely raised his brows, amused. “Why the bloody _fuck_ have you been following me across London? I just want to have a pint!” The other man’s thin lips parted to reply with what would undoubtedly be sarcastic and condescending. “ **Alone!** ” Bond’s mouth closed.

 

“But, where’s the fun in that?” His tone wasn’t condescending, as Q had predicted. Instead the double-oh sounded almost...sad.

 

Q eyed the blonde agent, “it may have escaped your notice but I’m not much of a people person. I enjoy my privacy and my quiet. I would rather have a night alone at the pub than spend an hour at some work function,” he shuddered, “ _mingling_.”

 

Bond chuckled at that and leaned back against the chair, pale eyes not moving from Q’s face. “Though I doubt it’s obvious, I too dislike crowds.” He smiled, actually smiled not smirked or scowled or leered as he was wont to do. “My job is to be around people constantly, to be interacting and observing and cataloguing, and in many cases I’m required to be _in_ people too.” The leer surfaced this time, though faintly and was gone between one blink of Q’s eyes and the next. “I need quiet as much as anyone else. Otherwise I begin to forget what separates me from the masks I wear.”

 

Q knew the feeling. Each day he was the impassive, highly intelligent, and aloof Quartermaster of MI6. Sometimes he would go days, weeks in one instance, without a chance to remove the facade and simply be.

 

“But...Being alone means there isn’t a buffer between you and the ghosts...” Q spoke softly, slowly, eyes hooded but not menacing. He watched Bond’s face, taking in how the line of his mouth tightened and his Adams’ apple bobbing as he swallowed around the knot in his throat. “People keep the memories and the nightmares at bay. You’re trading one burden for another.” Bond - no, James, this wasn’t the same cocky agent that Q dealt with daily, this was someone broken - nodded just as slowly. His eyes, usually so hard and impassive were haunted as they met Q’s.

 

And suddenly Q didn’t have any objections to the forty-something agent sharing his table for a pint. One fading personality sharing time and space with another.

 

Q took the time to wipe his palm on the thigh of his trousers before offering it to James. The blonde carefully closed thick, scarred fingers over Q’s long, pale, unmarred digits and gave a gentle squeeze. They shook their joined hands once, twice.

 

Q smiled, “my name’s Adam, pleasure to meet you.”

 

Bond’s grin was nearly blinding, “James, and the pleasure is all mine.”

 

Another gentle squeeze and they withdrew, content in the companionable silence. With the arrival of James’ pint and a refill for Adam, they fell into comfortable chatter about nothing.

 


End file.
